CO 

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ROBERT  A.  BARKER 


A    California    Optimist 


For  me  the  sun,  the  skies  of  blue, 
The  songbirds  and  the  flowers; 
The  sweet  grass,  heavy  with  the  dew; 
And  love  is  in  my  heart  for  you, 
Oh,  lovely  World  of  ours! 

What  care  I  for  the  discs  of  gold 
Some  count  above  their  souls? 
For  me  the  petalled  joys  unfold; 
To  me  are  Nature's  secrets  told; 
For  me  the  river  rolls. 

No  slave  am  I  to  lust  of  power, 

Nor  lift  I  front  of  woe. 

On  every  day,  in  every  hour, 

While  summers  glow,  though  tempests  lower, 

I  feel  the  life  blood  flow. 

I  laugh  Love,  while  the  sweet  stars  shine, 
Through   darkness  seeming  near. 
I  count  our  blessings,  yours  and  mine, 
Our  hopes  and  joys,  our  love  divine, 
And  life  is  bright  and  dear. 


FOREWORD 

In  the  year  1 769  Don  Caspar  de  Portola,  a  gallant  Spanish 
officer,  faithful  to  his  trust,  marched  northward  from  San  Diego,  at 
the  head  of  a  small  but  devoted  company  of  soldiers,  priests,  Indian 
neophytes  and  guides.  They  traversed  great  stretches  of  country, 
crossing  rivers  and  toiling  over  mountain  ranges;  occasionally  camping 
near  to  one  of  the  lonely  Missions  which,  even  at  that  early  date,  had 
been  established  at  long  intervals,  enjoying  the  hospitality  of  the 
Padres  and  regaling  them  with  the  latest  news  from  Spain. 

After  many  hardships,  on  November  4th  of  that  year,  they 
rested  on  a  wooded  eminence,  now  known  as  San  Carlos  Park,  and 
looked  down  on  the  beautiful  bay  of  San  Francisco.  Raising  his 
sword  and  unfurling  the  flag  of  his  country,  Don  Caspar  de  Portola 
too^  formal  possession  in  the  name  of  his  sovereign,  Don  Carlos  III 
of  Spain. 

Marching  all  those  weary  leagues,  did  some  note  of  prophecy 
stir  in  the  breast  of  this  intrepid  soldier?  Did  he  know  that  he  was 
carving  his  name  on  the  Scroll  of  Fame?  It  may  have  been  so, 
for  quickly  in  his  footsteps  were  many,  eager  to  follow  where  he 
had  led,  anxious  to  dwell  in  the  sunny  land  which  we  have  since 
learned  to  call  CALIFORNIA. 

Another  invasion  of  California,  a  peaceful  one,  is  taking  place 
in  our  day.  Health,  happiness  and  plenty  await  the  Hosts  of 
King  Labor  here.  The  Golden  State  is  rich  beyond  compare  and 
well  deserves  its  name.  Her  golden  sunshine,  golden  grain,  the 
golden  fruits  of  her  orchards  and  the  golden  metal  her  mountains 
yield  combine  to  make  the  golden  opportunities  California  offers  to 
the  industrious  worker. 

These  verses  are  put  forth  by  one  who  knows  and  loves  Cal 
ifornia,  in  the  hope  that  some  of  his  friends  may  journey  hither  and 
see  for  themselves  the  grandeur  of  the  mountains,  the  beauty  of  forest 
and  lake  and  valley  and  the  splendor  of  city  and  bay  and  ocean  which 
make  up  the  great  State  of  CALIFORNIA. 


THE  INVASION  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

AND  OTHER  POEMS 


Robert  A.  Barker 


COPYRIGHT,  1909 

$9 

R.    A.     BARKER 


1909 

Bolte  6-  Bra  Jen   Co. 
San  Francisco,  California. 


CALIFORNIA 


"T1  L  They    come,    the    toilers    from   afar, 

Earth's   resolute   and   bold, 

Invaders  With  weapons  bared,  but  not  for  war 

These   stalwarts   are  enrolled. 

For   Progress   sounds   the   battle-cry 
And   Trade's   great  legions   stir, 

And  Labor  bears  its  banner  high, 
With    Gold,    the    Paymaster. 

While  Orient  doors   wide   open  wait, 
The   long-barred  ports   are   free, 

The   Golden   State   is   all   elate 
From   Summit   to   the   sea. 

Far    fleets    shall    sail,    fair    orchards    bloom 
And   stately   buildings   rise; 

The    forge   shall    glow,    the   busy    loom 
Pour  forth  its  merchandise. 

And  homes,   the  widespread  homes  of   Peace, 
The  Golden  State  shall  bless, 

Where  day  shall  dawn  and  toil  shall  cease 
In  cheery  thankfulness. 

And   kindly   hearts   shall,   grateful,    praise 
The  Lord  of  Light  and  Life. 

Rest,  Warrior  of  the  ancient  days, 
There  is  no  call   for  strife. 


CALIFORNIA 


Rest  Warrior!      May  we  never  need  The     King's 

Thy   battle-flag  unfurled, 
The  sword   and  gun   no  longer  lead  |~i  o  S  t 

The   progress   of    the   World. 

Slow  progress,  that  by  battles  won, 

Where  blight  and  ruin   fall, 
And   Victory,   partial   to   the  one, 

^Looks  grimly  over  all. 

With  dextrous  hand  and  dewy  brow, 

Kind  Labor's  stalwart  sons 
Are  bearing  up  our  banner  now, 

And  standing  to  their  guns. 

The   weapons  of   that  mighty  host, 

Are   forge   and   lathe   and  drill, 
The   triumphs  their  strong   arms   shall   boast, 

Through   industry   and   skill 

Are  rivers  by  brave  bridges  spanned 

And   railways   reaching  wide, 
Electric  wires  along  the   land 

And  cables  neath  the  tide. 

No  treadle,  in  low  cottage  rooms, 

Vibrating  walls   shall   shake, 
In  lofty  mills,  untiring  looms 

Their  cunning   fabrics  make. 

Where  never  light  of  day  shall  gleam, 

The  miner's  pick  and  spade 
Are  winning   for  our  use   a   seam 

The  centuries  have  made. 

Life   seems   to   brighten    as   we   go ; 

For  Science,    Labor   leads, 
The  years,   that  erstwhile  seemed  so  slow, 

Are  swift  with  mighty  deeds. 

And  watery  wastes  that  lonely  tossed 

Their  white-capped  billows  free, 
By  twice  ten  thousand  keels  are  crossed — 

The  fetters  of  the  sea. 

Over  broad  lake  and  ample  stream 

The  sailor's  course  is  laid, 
With   snowy   sails   or   sturdy   steam 

To  swell  the  tide  of  trade. 


CALIFORNIA 


The  plow  prepares  dark  beds   of  mold, 

For  slumbrous  seed  to  lie; 
The  green  fades  slowly  into  gold, 

The  harvest  draweth   nigh. 

Time's  lathe  shapes  out  its  great  designs; 

Life's   forge  is   glowing  still; 
It  lights  the  long-extended  lines 

Of  Labor  armed  with  Skill. 

For  them  no  drums  triumphant  beat, 

No  banners  are  unfurled; 
But,   night  and   day,    their   tireless   feet 

March,   conquering,   through   the  World. 

Rest  soldier!      May  we  never  need 
War's   old-time   pomp   displayed! 

Yoke    to    the    plow    thy    battle    steed 
And   reap  with   thy  bright  blade. 


Laf^e  "TTo/joe,  lying  lifye  a  Sapphire  in  the  heart  of  the  Sierra. 


CALIFORNIA 


Fair  California,   Lo !    I  bring  P  a  1  i  f  n  r  n  i  a 

AJ          iL      £  in-  v-«alllUiHla 

And   at   thy   reet  my   store   i   rung, 

My  virtues,  not  my  vices !  A  c°o1  Tribute 

Some   frowns  the  latter  have  deserved, 
The  former  have  been  well  preserved 
In   Manitoba  ices. 

Ah!   do  not  turn  away  in  scorn 
Because   I   am   not   native  born! 
Nor   farmer   I,   nor  miner; 
But  I  have  lived  along  the  line, 
North  latitude,  0  49, 
I  am  a  Forty-niner. 

I   love   thee,   Fair-one,   Golden  West! 

Thy  sunny  hills,  in  russet  dressed, 

My  frosted  heart  have  smitten. 

Oh,   whisper,   Loved-one,   in  my  ear 

Some  words  of  comfort!      Give  me   Dear, 

The  hand  but  not  the  mitten. 

For  you  have  wealth  of  sea  and  mine, 
Of  old-time  treasures,  corn  and  wine, 
Of  horses  famed  for  speed. 
Your  women   fair,   your  climate  rare, 
Your  rich  fruits  ripening  in  the  air; 
What  more  can  mortals  need! 

Let  me  find  favor  in  thy  sight 

And  let  thine  eyes,   so  kindly  bright, 

My  radiant  pathway  cover. 

Thou   blessed   State!      Thou   glorious   land! 

Give  of  the  fulness  of  thy  hand 

To  thy  devoted  lover. 


The  Mission  San    Buenaventura  at   Ventura,  founded  by  'Pa dre  Junipero  Serra,  March  29,    1782. 


CALIFORNIA  11 


I  have  read  your  request,   to  the  very  last  line.  The     S  D  1 1"  1 1    of 

It's  cheeky;   but  that's  not   a  very  bad  sign! 

I  have  heard  the  same  tune  from  a  myriad  strings,  California 

Played   by   people   who   wanted    impossible    things; 

But  I  don't  take  much  stock  in  a  loafer  who  sits,  A 

With  listless  demeanour  and  indolent  wits. 

With  you  it  is  different.      You  seem  like  a  man 

Who  will  work  while  he's  able  and  do  what  he  can; 

So  I'll  whisper  to  you;  but  keep  dark  to  the  crowd 

Who  wouldn't  take  heed  if  I  shouted  it  loud. 

The  waters  you  gaze  on,  the  soil  which  you  tread, 

The  winds  which  have  wafted  the  curls   from  your  head, 

Are  full  of  fine  gold,  and  the  diligent  hand 

Of   the  man  of  discernment  has   these   at  command. 

Take  the  land — Go  and  farm  it  for  all  it  is  worth; 

Put  seed  in — put  trees  in — keep  stirring  the  earth. 

By  constantly  stirring  you'll  soon  be  in  clover. 

It's  your  capital,  boy !      So  keep  turning  it  over. 

Take  the  fish  in  the  sea — there  are  good  ones  there  yet — 

Put  hooks  on  your  line  and  put  bait  in  your  net. 

Their  silver  scales  cover  a  value  untold. 

You've  only  to  catch  them,   to  turn  them  to  gold. 

The   rivers   and  rocks  have   a  wealth   beyond   doubt; 

So  dam  them  and  blast  them.      They'll  have  to  shell  out. 

I  have  spoken.      Remember,  a  word  to  the  wise 

Is  enough.      Stir  yourself;   bring  intelligent  eyes 

And  diligent  hands   to   the  plow  and  the  spade! 

Bear  in  mind  the  advice  of  yours  truly,   THE  SHADE. 

You  called  me?      Oh,   yes,   I   can  tell   you  a   place, 

A  thousand  in  fact,  where  a  diligent  race 

May  happily  live  and  may  wax  and  grow   fat. 

And  kick?      Yes,   they'll  kick!      Little  doubt  about  that! 

When  you  mortals  get  rich,  you  are  bumptious  and  proud, 

Stick  your  noses  in  air  and  go  snorting  aloud. 

You  have  written  a  poem  not  bad  in  its  way — 

Now  shake   out  your  ears  and  just  list  to  my   lay. 


Nevada  Falls  in  the  matchless  Yosemite  Valley,  California,  leaping  650  feet. 


CALIFORNIA  13 


In   the   fair  California  Valleys   to-day,  Jjl     California 

Where  flame  the  ripe  clusters  of  luscious  Tokay; 

Where  the  bloom  of  the  orange  hath  perfumed  the  breeze  v  a  1  6  S 

And  the  rich  fruits  bend  low  on  the   beautiful   trees; 

In  touch  with  the  City,  yet  far  from   the  World, 

His  sword  in  its  scabbard,  his  battle-flag  furled, 

The  veteran  by   life's  hundred   battles   oppressed, 

Has  found  here  his  Eden,  his  Valley  of  Rest. 

But   not   only   veterans    congregate   here; 

For    the    young    and    ambitious    have    chosen    this    sphere ; 

Where  the  guerdons  of  skill  and  the  diligent  hand 

Are  drafted  on   Nature  and  paid  on  demand. 

They  care  for  their  farms  in  contentment  and  health 

And  journey  through  fruits  and  through  flowers  to  wealth. 

'Tis  a  manly  existence;   to  those  who  endure, 

Who  plow  in   the  rain,   shall   the   harvest  be  sure. 

I  would  that  the  toiler  in  city  or  town 
Could   see   the   green  hills   sloping   easily   down, 
The  park-like  old  trees,   with   cool   shadows   below, 
The  rich  bottom  lands  and  the  clear  river's  flow, 
And  could  see  the  bright  hope-light  that  shineth  alway 
On  the  fair  fields  and  orchards  that  gladden  our  way. 
The  envy  that  seized  them  might  some  of  them  move 
To  make  their  own  homes  in  the  Valleys  we  love. 

Can  anyone  picture  a  manlier  life? 

Free — Out  of  the  smoke  of  the  turmoil  and  strife, 

Yet  fronting  the  battle — each  holding  his  own, 

Determined   to  win  and  to  do  it  alone. 

I  tell  you  there's  grit  in  the  boy  who  takes  hold 

Of  a  place  of  his  own  with  a  hand  firm  and  bold! 

And  there's  brain  in  the  man  who  can  mcke  his  own  way. 

It's  a  labor  of  love  that  will  certainly  pay. 

For   the   Valleys   will    laugh    with    the   blossom    of    Spring 

In  tribute  to  those  who  their  labor  shall  bring. 

The  fig  and  the  olive,  the  peach  and  the  pear, 

The  almond  and  apricot  heavily  bear; 

The  hills  will   rain  down  their  rich   tunnage  of  wine, 

The  sun  will  lend  colour  and  odour  divine; 

For  Nature  has  smiles  for  her  favorites  still, 

Who  are  strong  and  who  woo  her  with  judgment  and  skill. 


14  CALIFORNIA 


T  llP      Jubilant  Sweet  Spirit,   I  drink  of  thy  words  as  a  draught 

Of  nectar  by  gods  distilled. 
F\  3.  n  C  n  6  f      •  No  cast-a-way  sailor  will  cling  to  his  raft, 

As  will  I  to  the  maxims  instilled. 

We'll  laugh  and  we'll  sing  and  the  Valleys  shall  ring 
With  the  sound  of  our  jubilant  mirth. 

As  we  follow  the  plow  we  will  demonstrate  how 
It  pays  to  keep  stirring  the  earth. 

For  the  elegant  vine  round   my  cottage  shall   twine 
And  the  olive  shall  silver  the  hills; 

The  plum  and  the  peach  will  be  found  within  reach, 
While  the  birds,  only,  send  in  their  bills. 

While  for  shade  of  the  fig  tree,  the  smoke  of  the  town 
Is   exchanged   with    contentment    untold, 

On  the  silver-fringed  crown  of  old  age  cometh  down 
Life's  evening  in  purple  and  gold. 

There  the  sweetness  of  life  and  its  comforts  surround 
The  hearts  that  are  dearest  and  best, 

And  no  better  gladness  on  Earth  can  be  found 
Than  obtains  in  our  Valley  of  Rest. 


CALIFORNIA  75 


A  waving  plain  of  golden  grain,  The 

Rare  fruits  and  flowerets  gay; 

The  fairest  land  God  ever  planned  Sacramento 

Is  at  our  feet  to-day.  W  a  1 1  e  V 

Before  us  rolls  the  river  and  behind  us  wave  the  trees 

And  our  hearts  are  all  aquiver  with  life's  possibilities. 

Through  Orient  gates,  now  swinging  wide,  a  myriad  hands  we  see, 

That  beckon  us  across  the  tide,  to  fair  prosperity. 

The  dream  of  centuries  draws  nigh — no  longer  as  a  dream — 

The  Continents  divided  lie,  yet  closer  will  they  seem. 

Oh,  Comrade  of  the  Ranks  of  Trade,   thy  hand  is  warm  in  mine! 

Together  and  all  unafraid,  we'll  keep  the  foremost  line! 

We  stand  upon  the  Western  Shore,  with  eager  heart  and  mind, 

A  World  of  Venture  lies  before;  a  Continent  behind; 

And  ceaseless  through  the  Golden  Gate  the  stately  river  flows, 

While  outward  from  the  Golden  State  its  priceless  treasure  goes. 

Deep   laden  ships  whose  course   is  laid,   with   homebound  sails   unfurled; 

The  ceaseless  ebb  and  flow  of  trade  that  balances  the  world. 

Oh,  Valleys  of  the  Golden  State,  ye  yield  far  more  than  gold ! 

The  hearts  courageous  and  elate,  the  spirits  blithe  and  bold, 

That  plow  and  dig  and  strive  and  plan,  in  field  and  mine  and  store; 

The  virile,   dauntless  Western  man,   safeguards  the   Western   Shore. 


(SI  Capitan,   Yosemite  Valley. 
This  stupendous  roc£  rears  its  granite  head  3,300  feet  above  the  river. 


CALIFORNIA  17 


An   Empire   art   thou    San   Joaquin!  J^     San 

An  Eden  of  the  West! 
And  through  thy  length   the  rivers   flow,  V  alley 

And  in  thy  strength  thy  children  grow, 

In   fair  contentment  blessed! 

Through   myriad   decades,   San   Joaquin, 

The    mountains    have    looked    down 
And  yielded  of  their  best  to  thee. 
And  in  each  gaunt,  high  crest  I  see 

The   Giver's  lofty   crown. 

By   one's   possessions,    San   Joaquin, 

Not  always  may  we  know! 
Those  grand  Sierras,   far  and   fair, 
In  clothing  thee,   are  gaunt  and  bare 

Or  garmented  with  snow. 

Oh,    San    Joaquin !       Fair    San    Joaquin ! 

Give  life  to  all  that  live 
On   thy  vast  plain !      Reward   their  toil, 
In  golden  grain  of   thy  rich  soil! 

Give,   as  the  mountains   give ! 

For  Mother   Mountains,   San  Joaquin, 

Keep  watch   and  ward   o'er   thee. 
All  they  have  left,  their  snows  they  yield. 
All  life  in  vineyard,  orchard,  field, 

Were   else   a   mockery. 

Thus  tree  and  vine   and   field   and  mine 

Give  out   their   bounteous   store; 
And  Power  is  wrested  from  the  rills, 
And  Strength  is  breathing  from   the  hills, 

And   life    forever   more. 


5^    c 
II 


0    c 


CALIFORNIA  19 


I  dream  about  them  earthquake  days,  with  their  smoke  and  torrid  weather ;  Tried 

And  it  seemed  like  this  little-old-joke-of-a- World  was  poorly  put  together. 

The  water  pipes  was  all  joggled  up  and  they  let  the  water  spout, 

And  the  fires  got  a-blazing  an'  we  couldn't  put  'em  out, 

And  pretty  soon  the  whole  blame  thing  was  just  one  blazin'  hell, 

And  the  folks  was  haulin'  out  their  duds  and  pilin'  off  pell  mell. 

You'd  laugh  to  see  the  things  they  got  to  cart  their  stuff  around. 

Most  anythin'  on  wheels  was  good  to  sluther  along  the  ground. 

I  tell  you,  'twas  a  tough  old  time,  and  put  us  on  the  blink. 

No  water  for  to  fight  the  fires  and  almost  none  to  drink. 

The  poor,  scared  kids  was  lookin'  round  in  terror  at  the  scene; 

The  older  folks,  with  faces  grim,  but  resolute  in  mien, 

Faced  Ruin  with  a  spirit  bold — the  flames  rose  higher,  higher! 

I  tell  you,  California  gold  was  tried  them  days,  by  fire. 

I  tell  you  that  the  gold  was  good  and  stood  the  trial  fine! 

So,  Neighbour  of  the  earthquake  days,  Shake!      Put  your  hand  in  mine! 

I  wish  I  had  the  learnin'  as  would  fix  this  tale  up  right; 

To  tell  of  Peace's  heroes,  in  that  battle  day  and  night; 

A-dynamitin'  buildin's  and  a-doin'  without  rest; 

A-doin'  without  meat  and  drink;  a-doin'  of  their  best; 

The  firemen  and  the  sailors,  the  soldiers  and  the  cops, 

And  them  plucky  little  College  lads,  each  workin'   'till  he  drops. 

Doctors  and  nurses  workin'  for  to  save  sick,  helpless  souls, 

With  a  spirit  showin'  clearly  that  the  Lord  of  Life  controls. 

Each  a-doin'  of  his  duty,  without  a  groan  or  whine. 

Dear  Heroes  of  the  earthquake  days,  shake !      Put  your  hand  in  mine ! 

The  rich  and  poor  and  black  and  white  stood  side  by  side  those  days, 
And  kindly  hearts  was  shown  by  all,  in  gentle,  helpful  ways. 
We  got  to  know  each  other  then,  and  in  the  long  grub  line, 
The  gold  of  California  hearts  was  tried  and  showed  up  fine. 
It  may  be  that  the  Good  Lord's  hand  gave  us  that  little  shake 
To  see  what  kind  of  folks  we  was,  and  if  our  souls  would  quake. 
If  so,  it  must  have  pleased  Him  well,  to  see  them  show  up  fine. 
So,  Neighbour  of  the  torrid  spell,  shake!      Put  your  hand  in  mine! 


20  CALIFORNIA 


And  then  the  scatteration  came.     There  weren't  no  call  to  stay, 
With  home  and  grub  and  clothin'  gone,  we  had  to  get  away 
And  scatter  over  God's  green  earth,  that  children  might  be  fed, 
And  men  get  work  and  women  help,  and  grief  be  comforted. 
While  thousands  stayed  around  the  Bay,  'till  things  come  right  again; 
More  thousands  struck  for  far-off  points  and  crowded  every  train. 
But  strangers  held  out  kindly  hands,  in  love  and  strength  divine; 
So,  Stranger  of  the  earthquake  days,  shake!      Put  your  hand  in  mine! 

A  tired,  hungry,  hopeless  band  came  marchin'  night  and  day, 

With  ragin'  fires  on  either  hand,  a-making  for  the  bay. 

Through  smoke  and  dust,  through  heat  and  thirst,  their  tired  feet  were  led; 

The  ashes  of  their  homes  behind,  the  darkened  way  ahead. 

I  tell  you,  'twas  a  dark  lookout!      What  comfort  could  they  bring, 

Whose  wives  and  families  were  there  and  needin'  everything? 

But  California  hearts  were  there,  with  gold  that  tried  out  fine. 

There  is  no  Stranger  now,  for  me,  Brother,  your  hand  in  mine! 

And  woman's  lovin'  hand  was  there  to  soothe  the  aching  head, 

To  wash  and  feed  the  poor  tired  kids  and  tuck  them  into  bed. 

For  grief  subdued,   for  strength  renewed,  for  hope  fanned  into  life, 

A  world  of  deathless  gratitude  to  widow,  maid  and  wife. 

Lady,  I'm  just  a  laborin'  man  and  you  are  dressed  up  fine; 

But,  Sister  of  the  earthquake  days,  shake!      Put  your  hand  in  mine! 

A  hundred  thousand  people  plunged  from  comfort  into  woe, 

No  homes,  no  food,  no  clothin'  and  they  had  no  place  to  go. 

The  friends  they  might  have  leaned  upon  were  in  the  self-same  plight, 

And  from  their  burnin'  homes  behind,  shone  forth  their  only  light. 

But  the  heart  of  every  soul  that  heard,  was  moved  by  their  distress; 

The  World's  great,  human  heart  was  stirred  to  helpful   tenderness. 

An'  so  we  find,  in  every  race,  some  touch  of  the  Divine 

Brother,  from  every  clime  and  place,  shake!     Put  your  hand  in  mine! 

'Twas  chaos  sure!      But  God  be  praised 
For  the  resolute  heart  of  man. 
Where  fires  infernal  burned  and  blazed, 
A  CITY  BEAUTIFUL  is  raised, 
Clean,  strong,  American. 


§ 

I 

J 

-a? 

I 


22  CALIFORNIA 


O  O  W  n     a  t  ^  ^a<^  a  v's'on  °f  fa'r  Monterey. 

Mine  ear  was  raptured  with  the  musical  sweet  sounds 
D  C  I     M  O  n  t  C  Of  birds,  and  round  about  the  grounds, 

In  a  dream  paradise,  I  thoughtful  stray. 
A  Dream  of  Monterey 

The  air  was  balmy  with  the  breath  of  flowers 
And  odorous  pines;  the  turf  before  me  spread, 
In  velvet  softness,  yielded  to  my  tread. 

Ah   me,   those  pleasant,   restful,   sunlit  hours! 

And  flitting  round  about  were  starry  eyes  and  curls: 
The  best  bright  treasures  of  the  Golden  West. 
Glowing  with  health,  in  gay  apparel  dressed; 

A  fair  Golconda  of  delicious  girls. 

I  strolled  into  the  baths,  where  saline,  cool, 
I  found  and  swam  in  such  delicious  tide, 
It  seemed  I  never  could  be  satisfied; 

So  lovely  was  the  pool. 

But  other  pools  would  beckon  me  to  play. 
Out  from  the  crystal  tide  I  sprang 
And  on  the  air  light-hearted  voice  rang, 

As  to  the  billiard  room  straight  made  I  way. 

I  rode,  I  motored,  boated  on  the  bay, 
I  passed  the  time  in  innocent  excess, 
In  pleasures  numberless, 

At  dear  Del  Monte,  peerless  Monterey! 

I  walked  the  dales  and  hills  with  rod  and  gun, 
I  found  a  heaven  of  bliss  in  smiling  eyes; 
I  danced  and  sang  and  'neath  the  azure  skies, 

I  lay,  like  lazzaroni,  in  the  sun. 

One  memorable  day,  beneath  an  ancient  oak, 
I  dreaming  lay,  when  sudden,  something  stirred, 
A  strange,  dark,  solemn  object,  like  a  bird, 

Thrust  at  me  with  his  bill,  and  I  awoke — broke! 


Mission  Santa  Barbara,  founded  by  Padre  Lasuen  on  December  4,    1 786 


CALIFORNIA  25 


Looking  downward   from  thy  hills,  Santa 

Quiet    Santa    Barbara ! 
Restful   ease   my   bosom   fills, 
Beauty   all   my   being  thrills, 

Peaceful    Santa    Barbara ! 

Driving,    in    thy    perfect    days, 

Pleasant    Santa    Barbara! 
On   thy  boulevarded  ways, 
Where    the    band,    inspiring,    plays 

Airs   of   Santa   Barbara! 

Out  across  the  sleeping  sea, 

Soothing   Santa    Barbara ! 
Forth   I   gaze   and   dimly   see 
Isles  that,   loving,   seem  to  be 

Sheltering  Santa   Barbara! 

Down   the   line   but   newly   laid, 

Listen  Santa   Barbara! 
Comes  a  current  long  delayed, 
Comes   the   life   and   stir  of   trade; 

Rouse    thee   Santa    Barbara! 

Sleep   is   for   the   tired   and   old, 

Not    for    Santa    Barbara ! 
Mission    days    have    backward    rolled — 
Lines    of   steel    are   lines   of   gold; 

Good   for  Santa   Barbara! 

From   the   Palace  by   thy   strand, 

Blissful   Santa    Barbara! 
Wealth   and   Power   and   Beauty   stand, 
Gazing   into    Fairyland, 

Into  Santa   Barbara. 

Free   and   fair   and   debonair, 

Child   of    Santa    Barbara, 
Longs  for  thee,   the  heart  of  care, 
Sports   with    thee    the   millionaire, 

Charmed  with  Santa   Barbara. 

Looking   o'er   Life's    troubled    sea, 

Down   at  Santa   Barbara 
Calm    and    still    it   seems   to   me; 
Such    a   haven    as   might   be 

Heaven  in  Santa  Barbara. 


26 


C  A  LI  FORNI  A 


San    Gabriel 


Mission  San  Gabriel,  founded  September  8,    1 771 , 
by  Padres  Beniio  Cambon  and  Angel  Somero. 

San  Gabriel,  enchanted  vale 

Of  sunshine  and  of  rest, 
With   wondrous   charms   of  hill   and   dale 

By  light  and  shade  caressed — 

Where   gaunt  Sierra   Madres  rise, 

Precipitous  and  grand, 
Lo!    at  their  feet,  in  safety,  lies 

A  sunlit,   favored  land. 


CALIFORNIA  27 


Oh,   fair  and  sweet  the  view,   I  ween, 
From    Raymond's   lordly   pile! 

A  thousand  shades  of  living  green 
Unrolled   for  mile  on  mile. 

The   sun   that   drops   behind   the   hills 

And  dips  into  the  sea, 
Has  left  in  shade  a  scene  that  fills 

Bright  memory   for  me. 

O'er  thrifty  orchards,  newly  set, 

And   fruitful   orange   groves ; 
O'er  happy  homes,  in  memory  yet 

Mine  eye  delighted  roves. 

Old   Baldy   looks   across  the  vale 

To  San  Jacinto's  height, 
And  both,  in  solemn  glory,  hail 

The  sun's  first  glancing  light. 

San   Bernardino's  mountains  smile 

To  see  the  welcome  rays, 
And  Pasadena  rests,  the  while, 

In  a  fair  golden  haze. 

Still  round  the  Mission,  quaint  and  old, 

Where  first  the  orange  grew, 
The  sunlight  falls,  and  globes  of  gold 

Gleam  the  dark  foliage  through. 

The  bells,  in  those  adobe  walls, 

A  century  have  hung. 
Now  sounding  loud  war's  clamorous  calls, 

Now   slow   and   solemn   swung. 

The  savage  war-cry  shall  resound 

About  thy  gates  no  more. 
In  sunshine  dwell  thy  people  round, 

To  worship  as  of  yore. 

Oh  picture  fair  and  rarely  set 

And   fitly    framed   for   love ! 
In   loving  memory  o'er   thee  yet 

Still  broods  the  white-winged  dove. 


CALIFORNIA 


29 


Oh,  Admirals  and  Officers  and  every  jolly  tar, 

With  Horse  and  Foot  and  Sub  Marines,   thrice  welcome   from  afar ! 

Hurrah  for  every  soul  aboard!      Hurrah!      Again!   Again! 

From  those  who  feed  the  furnaces,  to  those  who  feed  the  men. 

The  portals  of  our  hearts  are  flung,  wide  as  the  Golden  Gate. 
The  guns  will  roar,  the  bells  will  ring,  the  multitude  will  wait, 
And  when  the  first  good  ship  comes  in,  again  the  guns  will  roar 
A  Welcome  to  the  honoured  guests  who  seek  The  Golden  Shore. 

The  strong  hand  and  the  friendly  heart,  the  spirit  unafraid; 
The  courteous  thunder  of  the  guns,  the  starry  flags  displayed, 
Give  Welcome;  while  a  myriad  tongues  will  rend  the  balmy  air; 
The   Veterans   from   Goat   Island   and   the   kids    from   everywhere. 

Ah,  that  is  sure  a  greeting  which  might  move  the  sternest  breast; 
And  our  boys  have  the  loving  hearts,   the  bravest,   tenderest; 
Their  hardness   for  the  battle's  front,   returning  blow   for  blow; 
Not  stern  unto  a  smiling  face;  no  stern  unto  the  foe. 

Come  in!      Come  in!      The  Golden  State  will  give  you  cheer  for  cheer, 
And  silent  welcome  of  the  heart  from  those  who  are  not  here. 
And  as  for  our  dear  Admiral;  beloved  and  brave  and  bright; 
Just  leave  him  here  with  us  awhile!      We'll  fix  him  up  all  right! 

Ah,  Stately  Ships!    Oh  Blessed  Might!    The  Power  that  makes  for  peace! 
Before  the  strength  of  Righteousness  all  angry  snarlings  cease. 
The  strong-armed  guardian  of  the  flock,  by  bluff  companions  hailed — 
The  Weakling  bayed  by  every  dog,  by  every  wolf  assailed. 

Lord  send  us  peace!      But  not  through  fear,  nor  weakness  will  it  come; 
For  there  are  those  who  only  heed  the  warning  of  the  drum. 
When  the  dark  cannon's  burning  breath  blows  fierce  on  savage  wrong, 
The  safety  of  the  helpless  is  the  valor  of  the  strong. 


California's 
Welcome 
to  the 
American 
Fleet 


30  CALIFORNIA 


Berkeley     Hills  Berkeley  Hills,  in  russet  dress, 

Looking  rorth  on  loveliness. 
Nowhere  upon  Earth,  I  ween, 
Fairer  or  more  varied  scene. 
Nature's  matchless  of  the  real, 
Glowing  with  man's  best  ideal ; 
Beauteous  Earth  and  Sea  and  Sky, 
And  the  University. 

Beyond  the  Bay,  in  beauty  lies 

The  Sleeping  Maid  of  Tamalpais. 

Stern  watch  the  grand  old  Mountain  keeps : 

All  quietly  the  Maiden  sleeps, 

Preserving  through  or  sun  or  storm, 

Her  lofty  purity  of  form. 

A  lesson  to  the  heart's  unrest, 

The  Maiden  on  the  Mountain's  breast. 

Westward,  through  the  Golden  Gate, 
Seals  and  seabirds,  listening,  wait, 
While  the  ocean  softly  moans 
O'er  the  misty  Farallones. 
Lake  and  island,  stream  and  bay, 
Ocean  billows  far  away, 
While  below  us,  tower  and  town 
Nestle  close  as  we  look  down. 

Halls  of  learning — Youth  looks  back — 
Triumphs  of  the  team  and  track, 
Classic  Honors — will  they  fade? 
Whisperings  in  the  oak's  dim  shade. 
Fie  upon  us!    Youth  and  grace! 
Age  looks  back  with  smiling  face. 
Prexie  frowns,  but  who  can  say, 
Does  he,  smiling,  turn  away? 

Far  the  traveler,  when  he  sees 

Berkeley's  many-pictured  trees, 

While  a  sudden  rush  of  tears 

Blots  the  intervening  years. 

Longing  all  his  spirit  fills, 

For  Berkeley  Oaks  and  Berkeley  Hills, 

For  youth's  bright  pictures,  memory-made, 

For  leafy  murmurs  in  the  shade. 


amous  Oa£s  on  the  Campus  of  the  University  of  California  at  Berkeley. 


32  CALIFORNIA 


A.    Illbilee    F^ty  years  a§°  to-day!     Ah  me!  the  lights  and  shadows  play. 
,  In  that  half  century  we  see  the  future's  glowing  augury. 

From  those  old  times  when,  savage  still,  the  stealthy  Indian  roamed  at  will 
California    ^°  these  Proud  days,  so  free  and  fair,  with  comfort  reigning  everywhere. 

Yet  better  things  shall  come  to  thee,  oh  California  fair! 

Youth  is  the  time  of  purpose  high,  the  golden  future's  prophecy ; 

Ever  the  glad  thoughts  hurrying  on,  the  music  of  Anacreon. 

At  noon  some  measure  of  success  awaits  on  cheerful  earnestness. 

Rich  are  the  treasures  evening  brings;  o'er  golden  sheaves  the  robin  sings. 

So  happy  days  pass  cheerily  on  Time's  untiring  wings. 

On  human  lives  a  phantom  calls ;  on  human  hopes  a  shadow  falls. 

For  each  alone  a  mossy  stone  the  once-loved  name  recalls. 

California !     Golden  State !     On  thee  no  gloomy  phantoms  wait. 

As  morning  smiles,  as  noontide  glows,  as  evening  shadows  softly  close, 

Life's  long  procession  comes  and  goes. 

In  thee  their  birth,  their  lusty  breath. 

For  thee  their  lives  to  dusty  death. 

On  thy  fair  fields  they  labor  free, 

Reap  and  pass  on  and  leave  to  thee 

New  charms  for  their  short  husbandry. 

In  thy  trust  leave  we,  soon  or  late, 

All  good  things  we  accumulate. 


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BERKELEY 

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